Butterflies
by Moment For Life
Summary: A theme of butterflies which runs through the Dawson generations. One-shot.
**"How does one become a butterfly?" she asked pensively. "You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar." -Trina Paulus**

 _July, 1943_

 _Santa Monica._

Six-year-old Harriet held onto her grandfather's hand tightly as they walked to the fields. Her loose blonde curls billowed behind her in the gentle summers breeze.

Her eyes watched as the flowers danced. All bright and pretty before her and just then, a butterfly flew past right under her nose. She stopped and gasped.

''Oh, Grandpop, look!'' She held out her dainty hand to catch the purple and green speckled butterfly.

''Yes, just look how beautiful.''

He knelt down to her height. He smiled, as her large blue eyes lit up with her hands held out in front of her for the butterfly to land on. It fluttered before them as though it was showing off.

''Can we catch it and keep it?''

''Oh no, Harriet. We cannot keep it but we can certainly catch it.''

Expertly, he pulled a small glass jar from his pocket. Jack Dawson was certainly used to catching butterflies and even after all of these years, their beauty never failed to astonish him but what made it even more exciting was seeing the face of his only grandchild.

''Why not?''

''Because they had to be free, Harriet. Just as we people do.''

He took the lid off the jar which was full of nectar and held it out in his hand. Jack stood in front of Harriet. He stood as still as could be.

''You see butterflies like nectar.'' He whispered to her. ''Be still now.''

Harriet did as she was told. Within twenty seconds, the butterfly had flown into the jar and quickly Jack placed the lid on so that it was contained. The butterfly began to flutter around wildly.

''See how the butterfly gets trapped. She doesn't like it.''

Harriet watched as the butterfly tapped its wings frantically against the sides of the jar. ''Oh, grandpop but she is so pretty.''

''She is but she needs to be free. Could you imagine living in such a small jar?''

Harriet was quiet, too enthralled by the butterfly as it continued tapping its delicate wings against the glass.

Jack smiled as she held the glass jar. Her pretty freckles came out in the sun. She was tanned like her Mother and just like he had been, too.

''Can we show Granny?''

Jack sat on the grass, his back beginning to hurt from kneeling. Harriet tucked her hair behind her ear and sat beside him, still clutching the jar.

''Granny and I would come here before your mother was born. We caught butterflies, watched them fly by and we went fishing too.''

''Can we go fishing too?''

Jack smiled at her enthusiasm. ''Of course, but you will need a rod.''

''Did Mother come fishing?''

''Yes, when she was your age and older. We came here for picnics.''

Harriet glanced at her grandfather and then to the butterfly. ''We have to let her go?''

''Yes, darling.''

''If we can't take Granny a butterfly, can we pick her some pretty flowers?''

''Of course, she would love that.''

 _July 1913_

 _Santa Monica_

''I have never seen a butterfly so close before,'' Rose touched the glass jar.

Jack could only see her. Those eyes which lit up whenever she was captivated by something but nothing was more beautiful to him, than her. She turned to see him watch her and she couldn't help but smile.

''In summer, Pa used to take me out to catch them, we would take them home to Mother but they always died within a few days and I remember how upset I was.''

Rose watched it flutter within the jar. She could see the furry body, the small legs and then the huge coloured wings. ''We won't let that happen to this one. It won't die because we are not cruel enough to cage it for a lifetime. We will set it free.''

Her words were almost stinging to her own ears. She could sympathise with this small, lovely creature. One which was once a mindless insect only to one day wake up to be a beautiful creature with such lovely patterned wings. It was free to fly. Who was a person to stop nature, to take that privilege away?

Its wings gently tapped on the glass. Slowly, she watched as another butterfly flew past, hovering around them for just a few seconds. She unscrewed the lid on the jar before slowly allowing the butterfly to fly out. It found the other butterfly, twisting around as they flew before taking off into the sky somewhere.

''How beautiful.'' She sighed.

Jack took the glass jar from her. He stroked her left cheek, seeing the burnt red of her nose from their days at the beach in the sun. ''It is unfair to cage something so beautiful.''

She knew he meant her. Slowly, he leant forward to kiss her under the setting sun.

''I love you.'' 

_July 1920,_

 _Santa Monica_

The book had finished and Jack closed it.

''Again, daddy.'' Elizabeth pouted but this time Jack kept the book closed.

''No, it is past bedtime. We have had three stories.''

Four year old Elizabeth didn't argue further as she laid down in her small bed. Two stuffed bunnies lay either side of her and her pillow was surrounded by her long strawberry blonde curls.

''I like the story with the cats.'' She yawned.

''Well, we can read it again tomorrow night.

''I like the butterflies too,'' she held out her arms to her father for a cuddle, ''I want to be a butterfly.''

Jack snuggled his daughter as best as he could, repositioning her treasured rabbits. ''You do?''

''Yes, so I can fly very high. They have beautiful wings.''

Jack stroked her hair. ''They do. Big beautiful wings.''

''Mommy is as beautiful as a butterfly.'' Elizabeth closed her eyes, talking slurred and tiredly. Jack couldn't help but smile.

''She is, and so are you.''

Jack had no response for minutes later she was asleep. He kissed her forehead just once. When he turned he saw his wife stood at the door, her hand steadily placed on her swollen stomach.

''I told you to rest.'' He whispered as he left their daughters room.

''I couldn't miss out on story time,'' Jack kissed her cheek, ''she is still reading the butterfly story?''

''Yes. I think she is like her Mother that way. Remember that butterfly we caught back in the summer we first moved here?''

Rose nodded. ''How could I forget?''

He placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her back to bed. ''Come now, lay. I don't want you ill.''

''Jack, I am all right. I have already bore one child.''

''I know. I worry.'' He sighed as they reached their bedroom.

''Besides I don't think there will be much time left. The back pains have started all ready.''

Jack helped her sit on their bed. He sat beside her, kissing her hand.

''It happened so fast with Elizabeth. Shall I call the doctor?''

''Not just yet. Let us have half an hour just us before we become parents once more.''

She leant against him for comfort, the pains grew stronger through the night and by morning a second daughter, Julie Ann was born.

It was then when nursing her new baby by the window that a small butterfly appeared on the sill. It fluttered its wings slowly and stayed just long enough as though it was saying 'hello.'

Rose hugged her daughter to her body, relishing the feel of a baby once more. ''You see that Julie?'' She whispered. ''That is a butterfly.'


End file.
